Technicalities
by uchiha.s
Summary: AU. Oneshot. L is the creepy intern in the school computer lab, and Raito's computer just broke.


Technicalities

Summary: AU. Oneshot. L is the creepy intern in the school computer lab, and Raito's computer just broke.

"Shiit. Shit. Not now." Raito prays to the gods of technology. "Please. Not now."

L is fishing around the office, and through the window, he sees a guy—his age, and a frequenter of the lab—talking to his computer. Yes, talking. With a half-smirk of amusement, L abandons his search and walks to the window, pressing his face against the glass to watch as the guy's face becomes increasingly the picture of horror.

Usually, this guy is neat, clean, well-spoken, and together. He always dresses nicely, his hair is always neat, and he never, _never_ does anything wrong. Now, however, at three am, in the university's computer lab, Mr. Perfect is falling apart, and fast. His eyes are dead and encircled by bags wrought only by a profound lack of sleep, and his hair is messed up, in the way that only catching bits of sleep in between lectures and all-nighters can mess hair up.

Frankly, it's attractive. L always likes a good mess. A mess is not just a mess, anyway. It's a puzzle, and once you solve it, it's clean. And Mr. Perfect might as well be dubbed Mr. Enigma, anyway, because L was fascinated by him before.

L runs to the nearest faculty lounge and returns with black coffee. He, normally, would spit the horrid stuff out, but Mr. Perfect/Enigma seems like the type to prefer black coffee. Black coffee is more efficient, industrious, and mature. In other words, everything that L is not.

"Hey. So, you look kinda sleepy."

L is standing next to the guy, who looks up from clutching his head in his hands slowly. His dark eyes narrow, and the left one twitches. L raises his eyebrows. "What?"

The guy continues to glare at him.

"You think a cup of coffee is going to fix this?" He snarls, jabbing a shaking finger at the screen, which is blue. L watches him patiently. "My entire chemistry lab, which I just finished, is probably lost now. And it's due in..." He checks his watch. "Five hours. Wait, no. Four hours, and forty-seven minutes. I've spent hours on it. More than hours. _Days." _He proceeds to clutch his head again and mutter to himself. L frowns and looks at the screen. He sets the coffee down.

"Well, you're in luck. I'm the tech!" He says brightly. He pushes the wheelie chair with the guy in it aside, and checks out the computer. "Did you save your work recently?"

Mr. Perfect nods. "I save it every ten minutes."

"...wow, you really are perfect." L says, smirking. If the guy's surprised by this comment, he doesn't show it.

L fiddles around, but to no avail. It's frustrating, but finally, after about an hour, the blue screen flickers, and the spreadsheet with complicated numbers, equations, and charts pops up again. The guy breathes a sigh of relief. He slides down in his chair, and rests his head on the back of the wheelie chair.

"I owe you one." He says, and L knows he wouldn't say that if he weren't so tired and on the verge of an emotional breakdown. He's not the type to balance scales; the world owes him merely because he is perfect and smart and handsome and blah blah blah.

"I'll call the favor one of these days." L says carefully. He rises and straightens his shirt and hair. "Oh, I guess your coffee is cold." He looks the guy in the eye.

"I'll drink it for you next time." He says as he prints out the files. He rubs his eyes, and L thinks, _next time._

As he leaves, L calls out, "You can call me L." He feels awkward, standing there, stopping Mr. Perfect from leaving. Mr. Perfect looks over his shoulder.

"You can call me Raito."

--

It's ten pm. Friday. Most people are out, but of course, L is in. He is in the little office in the computer lab, without any privacy, because the office is lined with windows and surrounded by the lab. Not that he'd need privacy, of course. It's the principal of the thing.

He bites out of a doughnut and continues surfing the net. He's looking up cheats for a game he likes, reading online articles, and checking his email. He's babysitting the lab until his boss returns, which won't be for a few hours, at least. And then, after that, it's his shift. L doesn't really mind that much, though. He'd just be doing the same thing at his dorm, anyway.

He can hear the door open. He slides his gaze from the screen, out the office, to the lab. Raito is sitting there. He's looking perfect again, not messed up like last night... Or, technically, this morning. He's wearing a black sweater, jeans, and nicer sneakers. Not a hair out of place. L is impressed. In less than a day, he's pulled himself together. But now, L knows that a breakdown is bubbling under the surface waiting for one thing to set it off, make it boil over. L wonders what that thing would be.

L goes back to surfing the net, but he is so aware of Raito that it's as if the guy is right next to him.

A knock at the office window. Raito's outside. L lets him in, although in hindsight it occurs to him that he should have come out of the office.

"What?" L asks a little rudely. Raito's hand twitches, and L wonders if it's because he wants to fix some aspect of L's extremely un-perfect appearance. L sits back down in his wheelie chair. The desk goes along three of the walls, and is attached to the wall. It's cluttered with all kinds of crap, but without thinking, Raito pushes it off. L refuses to flinch as a coffee mug breaks and papers fly everywhere. He sits on the desk, so that he is facing L. And yet, he still doesn't look at him. He picks up a ballpoint pen, examines it, looks L in the eyes, and as they hold the gaze, he snaps the pen with one hand.

"This place looks like shit. How can you live like this?" Raito asks in disgust. He pushes some more stuff off the desk. This time, L flinches.

"How can you be so perfect? We're all made differently, anyway." He says defensively.

They still have not addressed the issue of why Raito's here.

"I won't be back later." Raito says, and L blinks.

"You just got here."

Raito doesn't answer, but just leaves. He goes back to his computer, and continues to type.

L's chest tightens. Raito won't be back later. It's an invitation, though an odd one.

--

He's standing in front of Raito's dorm room. The door is closed, though L is willing to bet any amount of money that it's unlocked. It's twelve am. Raito left the lab an hour and a half ago, and L only now just got up the... moxie? Bravado? Gall? Courage? Whatever. He's here now. Should he knock? He knows, from hacking the system, that Raito's got a single, so he doesn't have to worry about roommates.

He turns the handle, and just as he thought, Raito left it unlocked. Raito's at his desk, writing down notes in a notebook as he skims a third-year calculus book. At L's presence, he glances up.

"I'm just stopping by." L says carefully, shutting the door. Raito smirks, but says nothing.

L wanders around the room. It's neat, too neat. There is a philosophy book, L recognizes it as one about whether evil can be removed from humanity, on the nightstand. The bed is made, the floor is spotless, and the desk has nothing extra on it. The sterility of the room makes L uncomfortable. His mind flashes back to the way Raito trashed the office. It took a long time to clean that up.

L sees it for what it is, though. It's a game. A game of tension, a way of turning anger into passion, using the technicalities to his advantage. Technically, they're both straight. Technically, they're opposites. Things like that. He's good, but L's one step ahead of him. Raito thinks one thing will happen tonight, but L decided on his way to the dorm that that one thing won't happen, at least not tonight. The further he pushes it back, the better it will be. The longer the battle, the sweeter the victory.

L walks to the desk. Raito still doesn't look up. L notes there's a can of soda next to his notebook. Very purposefully, he knocks it over, spilling it over the notes. It runs down the pages, smearing and blotting the ink. The entire notebook is ruined, and now the juice is spilling off the desk and onto Raito's clothes. When it's Raito and his belonging, the imperfection, the mess, drives him crazy. He can destroy, but he cannot be destroyed. He's power-hungry. The scent of lime fills the air, and Raito pushes his book away.

"Well?" He looks at L expectantly. L lets a smile pass over his lips.

"Eye for an eye. Anyways, I was just stopping by. I should go." He turns to leave, and Raito almost chokes in surprise. Before he can say anything, L slams the door so hard that he can hear things fall off the wall in Raito's room and shatter.

--

It's L's night off, so he sits in his dorm, eating strawberry shortcake and, as usual, surfing the net. It's been three days since the visit to Raito's room,and nothing has happened. But L has patience in spades. He knows he hasn't stopped Raito's interest, because Raito still visits the computer lab, looking especially pristine. He's rubbing it in L's face, just _asking_ for L to make him look messy. He's flaunting his power. But L has power too.

The room is dark, and the only light comes from the monitor. L's bed is completely messed up—the covers are on the other side of the room, clothes and papers and old food containers lay scattered on the floor. L loves that Raito would—no, _will—_hate it. L knows he's going to come tonight. He can feel it. And when he does, L will turn him down. Again.

Just to add to Raito's frustration, he locks the door.

Around two am, he hears the knob turning in vain. Finally, the knock comes. L stares at the door, waiting.

"I know you're in there."

L pushes off of the desk and lets the wheelie chair roll over to the door. He unlocks it, and opens it a sliver. Raito is wearing black jeans and a white collared shirt, with the top few buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up. The white t-shirt underneath seems even more revealing than if he hadn't worn anything underneath. The power of suggestion is something Raito seems to favor, but L prefers the power of rejection.

"I'm busy right now." L says, licking pink icing off of his fingers. Raito looks at him impassively, but something's changed.

Then, Raito does something L had assumed he wouldn't. He smiles, and without another word, gently pulls the door shut. Nothing falls off the walls, and there's no noise, no drama, no destruction. It has what L assumes is the intended effect..

L sits there for a moment. Should he go to Raito's dorm? It's tempting, but then it would all be over so fast. But thanks to Raito just leaving him there, L is beginning to feel the strain.

L rolls over to his desk and shoves more cake into his mouth, as he stares at the wall, thinking. He has to get the better of Raito.

--

It's three days later, again. Almost a week since the chemistry lab disaster, and L muses on the fact that chemistry has wrought this situation. It's a double meaning, something L loves. Double meanings give so much room for thought, so much suggestion.

He is working on one of the computers in the lab. He's turned the lights off because he likes it dark, and besides, no one comes into the computer lab at one am—except for Raito, in which case darkness would be helpful.

The door opens, and L knows Raito's there . He can smell the aftershave, he can feel the way Raito's presence fills the room. L ignores him, and pulls out a piece of the computer. He examines it in the light provided by the monitor. L waits for Raito to come sit with him, but he sits far away, at the other end of the lab. L wants to look, but he won't. This is part of Raito's plan to get the best of him.

He won't win.

L begins to whistle loudly as he works, and makes as much noise as possible. He taps his fingers, shifts in his chair, hits his leg against the table in time to the song he whistles. He hums off key, wondering if Raito looks perfect, or if he's having a breakdown again. Seeing him like that piqued L's interest, more than he had been interested, anyway. Something lurks beneath the surface, and L wants to bring it back. He loves a mess.

Just as he's getting comfortable annoying Raito, Raito turns off the computer. He leaves. L didn't even get a good look at him.

And then, after ten minutes, L sees that it's his turn. And it has to be something good, because Raito went twice, and they were both pretty effective. Mainly because he can think on his feet.

L locks the lab, and goes to Raito's dorm. Lack of sleep make him feel strangely giddy as he walks. He's not used to moving so much, but it's worth it.

He devises his plan as he walks, and when he reaches Raito's dorm, he's ready.

He doesn't knock, but expects the door to be locked. It is, but L can pick locks.

Raito is, much to L's surprise, not working at his desk. Instead, he's collapsed on his bed, with work piled high on the desk and a textbook in his hands as he sleeps. Well, a minor change in plans.

He picks up the papers, and rips them into little shreds. He tears pages out of textbooks. He draws on Raito's desk. He breaks his pens. He pulls all of the clothes out of the closet, all dry-cleaned and still in their plastic covering, and throws them on the floor, stomping on them. Raito remains asleep.

He pulls the covers off of Raito and throws them across the room. Last, but not least, he pulls off his own shirt, then Raito's. He puts Raito's shirt on, and then, careful so as not to wake Raito, puts his own shirt on him.

And then he leaves, with the door wide open.

--

The next day, he hears whispers.

"Oh my god, did you see Yagami's room?"

"Yeah, someone must have it in for him."

"I think the scariest thing was that he didn't even look that surprised."

"Are you serious? Damn."

L carefully hides his smirk as he returns to his room. He has a long night of work ahead of him, and it's even more difficult to concentrate, when he's still wearing Raito's shirt. It smells like him. Thankfully, no one has noticed. Although, it might be funny, if anyone had noticed. L wonders what would happen.

After locking his door, he falls into his chair, and curls up, and begins to read. He's gotten through most of the reading when he finally drifts off to sleep.

--

When he wakes up, he's in shock. His room is pristine and perfect. It practically _sparkles._ But that's not the really shocking thing.

Those are definitely not his pants.

And technically, he should have seen this coming. But he didn't think Raito would make a move so soon.

He stands up, and scratches under his—Raito's—shirt, when he pulls his hand away and his fingertips are purple.

He lifts his shirt, and there's writing on his stomach, starting at the lowest part of his abdomen, faced so that he can read it perfectly. It's in perfect, straight handwriting.

'You can call the favor any time.'

It's a cheesy statement, but as usual, it has the right effect. It's the power of suggestion. He's right there, waiting for him. Even now, the hairs on his arms raise at the thought of Raito going through his belongings, cleaning, and then undressing him almost completely. Touching his bare skin.

Now he _really_ can feel the strain. He wonders if this is what Raito felt yesterday morning, when he woke up to see his room destroyed and his own shirt gone.

When L walks to class, he passes Raito in the quad. It's unseasonably warm, but Raito is wearing L's shirt—and his pants. L is wearing Raito's shirt and pants, too. It's strange, to see Raito in a plain white shirt and baggy, faded, ripped jeans. But that's not the best part. The best part is that he looks like he did that first night—ready to explode. When he sees L, his jaw clenches, and he slows down. Their eyes meet, and Raito confidently holds L's gaze. He's pleading.

L keeps walking.

Later that night, L goes to the lab. He sits in the office. He's fairly sure that nothing will happen tonight. Technically, it's his turn, but L's going to wait. Just a little bit longer—but only a little bit. Certainly, L's losing steam too. He's tired, emotionally, and is ready. But he _knows _that it will be better if he waits.

He buys more sweatpants online, he fixes one of the computers, and he works on his project—making his own computer. It's not that it's that difficult, in fact it's easy, but he enjoys things like that. It's a puzzle. Then again, he hasn't had the capacity for it in the past week. He's been working on another puzzle.

He hears a knock at the door. He sees in the reflection of the glass panel above his computer that it's Raito.

L lets Raito in wordlessly. The office is clean for a change, and Raito seems pleased.

"Good." He nods approvingly. L shrugs.

"Not my doing." He stretches and slumps back into his chair. Now that Raito's here, L has nothing to stay. Scratch that, he has many things to say, but nothing seems right at the moment.

Raito looks around the office. He spots a hunk of cake next to the computer, and bends over and breaks off a piece.

"Not bad." He says, tasting it. L stares up at him. He's still wearing his clothes, and it's an oddly pleasing sight. The pants dip low on Raito, the shirt rides too high. He's too tall.

L moves from sitting in the chair to on top of the desk. Now their faces are level. L takes Raito's face in his hands, and brings him closer. Their noses touch. L pushes back Raito's hair, makes it messy. In Raito's eyes, there is a sign of relief. But L doesn't like that.

It has to be more passion than relief. If they wait just a little bit longer... it will be better. They haven't reached breaking point.

L releases Raito, and pushes him away. He gets off the desk, and leaves the office. Raito stands there, looking more than stunned.

L goes to the vending machine for some cold water—anything to help him. But he couldn't just give in right away. It is too soon. Maybe a few more days. Although, even now, his fingers itch. He burns.

When he returns to the office, it looks like it was hit by a nuclear explosion. Everything is shredded, broken.

But what bothers him is that his project—the computer—is broken. It's shattered on the floor.

L stares.

Well, L thinks, sitting down in his chair with his eyes glued to the smashed bits on the floor. This conveys several important messages. 1, Raito wants L to know that he's messed up. Psychotic. He can't cooperate as he should, in a relationship. 2, Raito is sick of the strain. Of the wait. 3, he has no respect for other people's belongings.

Basically, he's saying, it's now, or never. But if it's now, this is fair warning.

Through their little game, L has gotten to know Raito well. He knows he's smart. He knows he's competitive. He knows he is secretive, because no one else seems to know this side of Raito. He knows that he is always on the verge of losing it. He knows that he is a neat freak. He knows that he favors lime soda.

Well, it's as good as any first couple of dates, and no one said their rel—well, it's not a relationship. But whatever it is between them, no one said it was perfect.

But it's better. To go beyond the ridiculous game of watching each other eat and making small talk, as is the dating practice. You don't really _know_ someone that way. Had they done it that way, L wouldn't know Raito any differently than anyone else does. And that would take ninety nine percent of the fun out of it, for L anyway. Probably Raito, too. It's such a chase. Is L the first person to deny him? What a rush.

L cleans up the project. After all, he's already decided, this is where they will do it. Tonight, yes. Before he loses Raito.

--

When Raito wakes up the next morning, he isn't where he hoped he'd be when he woke up. And what he had hoped would happen, clearly didn't.

He rolls over in bed, and groans. Another night put off. Is L still going to do it? Or is this just Raito continually catching his bluff?

But when he looks at himself in the mirror, he understands.

Written everywhere, in horribly messy little-kid handwriting, are obscenities. And not just any obscenities. Raito realizes that it's what L would like to do to him, on every square inch of his skin, burned onto him in black ink. Around his eyes, on his ears, in his armpits, between his toes.

Shaking, Raito looks down and pulls off his briefs. Nothing is written there, except on the lowest part of his abdomen, in purple ink, facing towards him, it says, 'Patience is a virtue.'

He gets in the shower and scrubs it all off, being sure to not miss a spot. It's not the writing that bothers him, so much as the thought of L touching him so carefully, and so intimately, but deliberately putting off one spot.

His skin burns, and even as the ink is gone, he still scrubs. He's not going to be able to concentrate today, at all.

Goddammit.

--

Well, when he had gotten to Raito's room, he was sleeping so peacefully. He didn't want to wake him up for something that he could make even better with one more day of waiting.

He wonders. He had wanted to do it in the lab, because that would be deliciously against the rules and wrong, but will Raito approach him now? Or is it his turn? Wait, whose turn _is_ it?

L sighs and runs a hand through his hair. Just now, it got complicated. Now that he's actually faced with the prospect of it, he's not sure he can bring himself to go through with it.

He's scared.

Of what, though? He's never been scared before. Never, and here, with this random guy and this silly, absurd, _ridiculous_ game, he's scared.

L, staring out the window, makes his decision. The wait is killing him, despite his fears. He wants Raito, and occasionally you have to give in. And certainly, this is a case where the benefit greatly outweighs the cost. Losing isn't really losing, it's all winning, in a way.

He leaves his dorm room, and travels to Raito's, a path he's quickly become familiar with.

Should he barge in? Knock? Walk away?

He chooses to open the door slowly. Raito is there, working, and L finds pleasure in seeing him look so messed up. L is making a mess of him. It's his fault.

"So you came." Raito looks up, but doesn't move away from his desk. L shuts the door quietly, and locks it.

He could make a really bad pun of Raito's words, but that would ruin the moment. They stare at each other, as tension fills the air so much it's stifling. Raito looks like shit, and L is lapping up the sight of it, eagerly.

Raito turns back to his notes, his back tense. L saunters over, and places his hands on Raito's shoulders.

"Relax." He says in Raito's ear, making Raito jump nearly a foot.

"If you're here to mess with me, leave." He says coolly. He jots in his notes, ignoring L. L feels incensed by the sight of his hands holding the pen, positioning the notebook, writing. He's so careful.

L doesn't answer, but runs his fingers up Raito's neck, making goosebumps appear. His thumb goes over each bump of his spine, and they travel through Raito's hair.

His hands continue to travel over the front of Raito's face. These are his bangs, this is his forehead, these are his eyebrows, these are his cheekbones, this is his nose... these are his lips. "Go back to the lab. I don't want to see you right now." Raito says in a significantly less cool voice. L smiles.

This is his chin. This is his jaw. This is his neck. This is his collarbone. Then L's hands stop on his chest, and he rests them there, leaning over Raito. Raito's heart rate is doing double time, but L's is doing triple.

"I find it fascinating," Raito begins, "that you can come in here after all this, and expect me to just go through with it. You had your chance."

"You said I could call in the favor any time," L points out as he continues to feel Raito's heartbeat.

"That was before. It's too late now." Raito's voice shakes.

"You're not pushing me away."

"Do you want me to?"

"I can wait."

"What if there is no wait, what if I'm done?"

"You're not."

--

L is resting his head on Raito's stomach. Raito is reading from a calculus textbook, and occasionally reads aloud from it.

"Three space. It's multivariable calculus. Octants."

"Why is that important?"

"You should know it. You're a tech geek." He doesn't sound irritated or forceful, only all-knowing. L is at peace with this. His condescension is natural, and when L finds himself parroting it, he feels himself glowing.

"What's so special about it?"

"Planes. Spaces. You're coordinates. Just sets of coordinates in three space, forming you. It's aesthetic. It's geometric forms. X, y, and z. That's all you are. That's all anything is. The world is three space and can be reduced to coordinates."

"Technically, yes." L says thoughtfully, although he's not really thinking about three space. He already knows it anyway, but he likes to hear Raito talk about things. He says things with the same certainty that L thinks them.

Raito's room is messy, but if he notices it, he doesn't seem to care.

L sits up awkwardly. Raito is staring at his back.

"What does my equation look like?" L asks, without turning around.

"Mm."

"Mm?"

"It'd be too many variables."

"What are my coordinates?"

"They change too much."

"So you don't know."

"_Technically,_" Raito begins, using L's word, "I do."

L shrugs and flops back down, listening to Raito tell him all the things he already knows. Multivariable calculus, computers, love, and the evils of sweets. Technically, it's a bad relationship. Technically, it's not a relationship. Technically--

Oh, who really gives a fuck, anyway?


End file.
